You and I
by PotatoJerk
Summary: Arthur is fifteen, an ugly waiting to get the operation. But, unlike all the other uglies, he's going to do something no one has done since the rusty time.
1. Prologue

_**A/N~ I Do Not Own Hetalia, Or The Uglies Series; If I Did, I Wouldn't Be Posting On Here**_

Arthur was different than everyone around him; all the people around him, through their own eyes, were ugly. He disagreed with that, because, through his own eyes, everyone was prettier than he himself was. Arthur was 15, almost old enough to get 'the operation', which would turn him from a skinny little waif of a boy, into a man- into a pretty.

He was always slim, almost feminine, his dull acidic green eyes glowing almost animal-like in the low light of what his 'friends' liked to call 'ugly-ville', his pale skin, caused by his long hours reading in his room like some sort of rusty crumbly. His hair was dull blond and spiky, chopped off into a short pixie-cut, framing his heart shaped face.

With his facial features, he would look like one of the pretties if it weren't for one of the few flaws to his face; he had thick brown eyebrows that made him look constantly angry, when he was, in fact, always bored.

When he became a pretty, his thick eyebrows would be taken away and made into something that fit the pretty template... it made him sick.

He actually liked his eyebrows, felt like they made him different; through his eyes, different was good. Different could be pretty, when it grew.

But different could also be ugly, too, so Arthur closed his eyes to all the faces of ugly-ville and made himself the only one that was ugly, through his own acid green eyes.

So, through his eyes, the boy with the colorless hair and the big nose, the one who was so much taller than Arthur, was more pretty than Arthur would ever be, even after the operation.

The boy who had a cowlick, who had to wear glasses even though almost no one did, anymore, was the most gorgeous thing on the face of the earth.

At least, through Arthur's eyes.

The reason was fairly simple... Arthur was a boy, and he was in love with another boy.

Through his own eyes, he was ugly, because he would never be a girl- never be able to be with the one he loved. He would never be happy, even when he became a pretty.

Maybe if the operation could make him a girl... but then, no one had ever become a member of the opposite sex; it just wasn't done.

Maybe it could be done... Arthur had the right face for it, at least.

He _**could**_ be a girl...


	2. Chapter 1: Arthur

I blinked my acid colored eyes open, seeing a slight flash through one of them. A ping...? At (here I checked the clock) 3 in the morning...?

Who the sodding hell-

I noticed that the ping was tagged as urgent. An urgent ping? No one ever sends an urgent ping to an ugly.

Ever.

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, flicking my eye mouse a bit and opening the ping.

_Mr Arthur Kirkland_

_Ugly-ville, Londinium_

_This message is to inform you that your operation is on the 23rd of April, at 9 in the morning. Do not reply to this message._

_If you have something you would like to suggest about your operation, please do not hesitate to contact us; your opinion is very important to us._

_Signed, The Body Modification Bureau, Londinium Branch_

"...if I'm going to become a female... I should send them a ping in the next..." I checked the read out on my calendar and saw that it was the 12th, "...11 days." I didn't quite understand why it was so urgent, as I was still half asleep, but I decided to send a ping to them before I forgot. Sitting up on my bed, I yawned a bit, staring at the interface ring on my left index finger.

It felt the same as always, and greeted me silently in my mind with a soft robotic voice that seemed to say 'Hello, Arthur'.

I was so curious about what it would be like to be a girl... I had always felt like a girl, but boys were boys and girls were girls; new pretties may be the type to experiment, but boys went with girls, not with other boys.

That was why I wanted to be a girl.

Because of one Alfred Jones, who seemed like he would make a very interesting pretty, with the way he would laugh at the smallest of things. He was the boy that I liked, even though I was a boy too.

I hurriedly typed up a ping and sent it, a bit worried that I would be stuck, unhappy, as a boy, forever; I wouldn't be able to handle it. Both of my parents were happily pretty, the type of people that wouldn't lend you a purifier if you were dying of thirst.

Greedy like New Pretties, with the understanding faces of Middle Pretties, and the sense of a pair of Rusties. I would've called them Rusties if it were actually worth it to insult my parents.

They wouldn't care, even if they _**were**_ Rusties, because they didn't care about anything other than their stupid perfect house, surrounded by more perfect houses with the other stupid perfect middle pretties, who lived out their days with their cute ugly littlies, who grew into self depreciating little uglies, who became perfect self obsorbed new pretties who would one day be middle pretties just like their worthless perfect parents were.

Unlike everyone else, who thought they were ugly when they weren't and would grow up just like my greedy parents, I had already seen how being an ugly and thinking like an ugly didn't make you into the self obsorbed pretties; it was thinking that everyone else is ugly too, and all that will change once you get the operation.

I knew that I would never be pretty unless I became what I wanted to be.

Being pretty is not just the operation; it's how you feel afterwards.

If I had the operation and was a boy just like I had been before, I would turn out just like the other uglies who became pretties.

But, if I had the operation and came out a girl, I would be happy by choice, rather than being greedy like my parents.

Then I would have Alfred, and we would be happy together.

...happy little bubbleheads...


	3. Chapter 2: Alfred

I stared at the ceiling of my dorm room, bored out of my mind, my alarm clock's read out glowing brightly in the pitch blackness; it was 4 in the morning, on April 12th 2305.

In five hours, my best friend would be turning pretty.

11 days after that, one of my other friends would be doing the same.

The operation was always at 9AM on whatever day was your birthday; when you woke up that day, you would find pings from all of your ugly friends, saying goodbye, and from all of your friends who already became pretty, wishing you good luck.

I didn't want to be pretty; I liked the way that I looked, thick glasses included.

But, my best friend wanted to turn pretty, and wanted me to turn pretty too; he looked almost exactly like me, since his crumblies were the same as mine, but his eyes were a dark green color that I didn't know the name of.

He and I, and our other friend, Arthur, would probably have been natural pretties if we were alive during rusty days; just a trio of pretty guys who just plain looked good.

Of course, even though I was fascinated with some of the things from rusty days (for example, comic books), I would never want to go back to the time when rusties lived; they killed animals, burned trees and oil, started wars, practically killed everything on the planet. Until they destroyed themselves, their world was polluted, animals going extinct all over the place; it was good for the planet when they finally screwed up so bad that they weren't able to do what they normally did.

I sighed and looked out my window; it was a beautiful night and I was stuck inside, just because of a stupid curfew. Time to pull a trick.

I slipped my interface ring off my finger and blinked a bit, before searching my room for my crash bracelets; I had made a habit of always wearing the belly sensor, even though I wasn't supposed to, because you never know when you have to escape from your dorm room during a fire (in the words of my best friend... the paranoid little ugly).

Climbing out the window carefully, I snapped my fingers while clinging to the wall, a hover board rising from the ground and stopping just below my feet; I was on the third floor, so the fall would kill me.

I could feel the silent hum of the board underneath my feet, proof that it was actually working, and in seconds, I was gliding through the air, slowing outside of a dorm on the opposite end of ugly-ville from me. I knocked on the window, absolutely sure that the occupant would still be awake.

A few moments later, there was a light in the room and a shadow near the window, and it opened, revealing a small blond with an almost pretty face and thick brown eyebrows. He stared at me with a pair of almost luminous acid green eyes, blinking blearily.

"Alfred...? Why tha bleedin' 'ell ah ya 'ere...?" I could tell that he had been sleeping by his voice and the way he spoke; he never sounded like that unless he had been awakened in the middle of the night.

"Hey, Artie," I grinned, even though the light coming from the room, magnified by my glasses, was hurting my eyes, "Wanna go out and pull a trick with me?"

"...ya woke me up a' 4 o'clock in tha bloody mornin', jus' because ya wanted me ta pull a trick with ya...?"

I nodded, nudging the hoverboard up a bit. Artie was the only one who ever came out to break curfew when I went past his house.

Artie leaned out the window, snapping his fingers as I watched, his hoverboard streaking off of the roof like a shooting star and gliding into his room where it fell to the ground with a soft clatter. He made a show of putting on his gear, sitting on the surface of his board rather than standing on it like I was, showing off his smooth and unmarred (long graceful) legs and his clean (small dainty) feet; he was one of the few uglies that bothered to wash his feet, and I knew that his skin was perfectly smooth (from the experience of both of us falling off of our hoverboards, him landing on top of me like a 14 year old girl).

I had always thought of him as a girl, since he always acted like one, but it was clear that he was a boy; his legs may have been long (and graceful), but they also had the hard wiry muscles of one of the runners that you would see in rusty things made of paper. He was a boy, and I would never forget that, but still, he face was so feminine that he looked like a girl.

I wondered what he would look like as a pretty... of course, he would have the standard wide expressive eyes and plump lips, a childlike face that made you want to protect him, and perfectly sculpted features. He would make such a cute girl, but he would definitely be a pretty boy.

We would probably lose touch after he became a pretty; pretty girls occupy far more attention than an ugly boy would. Still, I couldn't help but think that Artie would make a pretty girl.

He and I glided silently for a bit, and then Artie spoke.

"Alfred, I want you to know something before I have to leave... I don't want to be a pretty boy. I don't. I would never be happy with the stupid games that those stupid perfect new pretty girls play." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and I stared at him, not comprehending.

"What...?" I asked, confused.

"Alfred... I've sent a ping to the body modification bureau... I asked them if I could..." here he paused for a moment, his eyes glazed over, "...become a pretty girl, instead. If they approve, I'll be the first ugly to become a pretty of the opposite gender..."

I stiffened and my board stopped completely. I just stared at him, watching as he came to a stop also, still seated on his board like a pre-rusty king, he crossed his legs in a way like how I'd once seen my mother (a standard middle pretty with pale blond hair and dark blue eyes) do. I laughed nervously, "Are you serious, Artie? Why the hell would you want to be a pretty girl?" Saying that he would look good as a pretty girl was one thing; him actually doing it was completely different.

"Because... Alfred, I..." his board jerked towards me and suddenly his lips were against mine. My eyes widened, but I didn't pull away. The only though going through my mind was that he looked just like a girl; he would look really stunning as a pretty girl. "I love you, Alfred..." he whispered, pulling away, blushing.


	4. Chapter 3: Arthur

I touched my lips. I had _**kissed**_ Alfred... Alfred Jones, the ugly who lived on the far end of ugly-ville from me. The littlie who used to live next to me and my parents when I was a littlie.

I was so...

Happy.

I had kissed the person I had been crushing on since we were still littlies, the person who had all the same classes as me in ugly school; I felt amazing.

For once, I didn't feel like I was ugly at all... I felt perfect.

It had been 3 days and I hadn't seen him, but it was the summer and I couldn't go outside (lest my fair skin get sunburnt), so it was normal for me to not see him for months at a time during the summer; he was outdoors-y but slightly less so than his best friend.

I knew that I wasn't his best friend, but he seemed to consistently visit me in the middle of the night; I may not have been the type to hang around outside, but that was because my skin was fair and pale.

Of course, if he hated me because of that and was avoiding me, I...

...no.

He wouldn't avoid me.

He doesn't just avoid people.

Not even Ivan, the only ugly that had ever shown any kind of interest in staying the way he was born- the only ugly that Alfred didn't get along with.

But what if he _**was **_avoiding me...?

I looked out the window of my room, watching the sunset, my acid green eyes dull for the first time that I could remember.

What if he _**was**_ avoiding me?

If he's avoiding me then he must hate me for just... kissing him out of the blue.

I loved him...

...but what if I had ruined everything?

I didn't want him to be mad at me... I didn't want to lie to him.

I wanted to be honest.

Honesty was so important to me...

...after my parents and their greedy lies.

Honesty was the most important thing- even more so than love or friendship.

Not that love existed at all in pretty-time.

Love would require some sort of difference from person to person whereas, during the pretty-time, everyone looked the same, following the standards set for pretties by the pretty committee.

Everyone thought alike, as well.

Uglies thought they were ugly, Pretties looked down on the uglies- New Pretties by having their flashy little parties in the pretty-ville, middle pretties by sending their children away, and late pretties by not even seeing the uglies anymore.

It was like they were all brainwashed.

I shivered a bit, snapped out of my musings by the sounds of the coming nightfall, the cold air blowing in through my open window.

_**What if he hates me...?**_

I scowled a bit and snapped my fingers, drumming the fingers of my other hand against the windowsill and waiting for a moment before slipping my too-long-for-an-ugly legs out the window, letting myself fall, my dull blond hair dancing around my head as I fell through the still night air.


	5. Chapter 4: Alfred

I smiled slightly as my board glided through the air, honey blond locks sailing behind me; balancing on the board was a bit hard with the wind blowing in my face and, at the height I was going, I could've died... but I didn't care. When I was that high up, I felt like I was flying in the sky like a bird; no ties to the ground, so I could go wherever the wind took me.

"Hey, Glasses! Wait up, ya eagle wannabe!" It was a voice like mine, a sound that I had heard only a few times since my bestfriend had become pretty. He was still the same guy, only he had a pretty face- flawless -and perfect eyesight. I slowed my ascent and looked back, smiling a bit.

"Hey, Scar!" I grinned, turning towards him and leaving my back facing the wind.

My thick glasses almost came off when I saw him. New surge. He had new surge and he looked like some kind of cross between a fox and a human, sharp features that looked almost _**too**_ perfect. "Glasses, what's up? I sent ya' a ping from Pretty-ville n' ya' didn' answer; ya' mad at me er somethin'?"

I shook my head, "I've just been busy, Scar."

"Feels weird to be called that, now that m' scar's gone..." He smiled and it struck me just how strange he looked without that scar from one side of his forehead to his jawline; he and I may have had the same face, but he had once had a really light scar across his face that marred an otherwise perfect face. In the words he had used in his first ping as a pretty 'that scar was so ugly-making', but I disagreed. It made him fit in with the rest of us uglies and it gave him an ugly nickname like the one I had... like the one Arthur had.

Just a small group of uglies, Ghost (another one that looked like Me and Scar, for his pale almost translucent skin), Glasses (me, for my bad eyesight), Scar (my bestfriend, for the scar that once marred his face), and Eyebrows (Arthur, for obvious reasons).

Where _**was**_ Arthur...?

I had avoided him for a few days, feeling confused, but when I wanted to see him, he had vanished...

"'s it eyebrows what's kept ya busy, Glasses?" Scar asked, smirking a bit. He looked completely different without the scar; I really didn't like it.

I sighed a bit, "As usual, you got me. He said something a few days ago and now I can't find him to give him my answer."

"...said 'e loved ya, right...?" I stared at Scar, speechless. "Don' tell me ya haven' noticed, lil' eagle; 'twas obvious to just about ev'ryone but _**you**_!"

I was... confused. "_**Everyone **_knew that he loved me before I did...?" I shifted slightly on my board, the lifters catching and gliding slowly downwards.

"Yep. Ev'ryone knew n' most of us thought that 'e would be confessing in a few days- his birthday's the 23rd, yeah? -'course, if 'e ran away, 'e could be in Gallium by now." Scar nodded a bit and I noticed that, when he smiled, there was the slightest twitch to the movement, like the scar that had once been there had severed his nerve endings towhere he couldn't make different faces without that slight twitch.

The doctors who had done the operation may have made the scar vanish, but they couldn't get rid of what was left behind.


End file.
